Tales of the Teen Titans: Kidnapped
by Nitebreaker
Summary: Lord Trogaar's back, and he intends to settle some old accounts. Sequel to 'Exile.' Rated for content and adult scenes. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Tales of the Teen Titans: Kidnapped, chapter 1: Prologue

"_We have gained so much in the last three hundred years. And we have lost much._

"_We have undergone an industrial, technological, and cultural revolution that would have literally stunned our forebears. The world in which we now live, is not the one they knew. Poverty and want have been eliminated, to the point where we can find definitions of the very concepts only in a few outdated archived resources. Warfare between our mutual species is no more. The slave world of Apokolips, which once menaced galaxies, is ashes, and its Master, Darkseid, no longer a concern. We may mourn the loss of the paradise world of New Genesis, but its people have found a place here amongst us, and even now, guide our development, themselves free of the lash of war under which they lived, for so long._

"_The roll call of the fallen is long and sobering, even without mentioning names: human, Hunter, Thanagarian, Kryptonian, Tameranean, Osiran—Lords, Warriors, and Thinkers, alike—New God, even some demons, have all perished in attempting to save our mutual worlds and our species from the forces the Great Powers unleashed in the last half of the twenty-third century. That we are still here, and still free, indicates to me that their sacrifice has not been in vain._

"_But whatever their—and our-ultimate fate, one thing I can say with certainty: they will all be remembered."_

_-Excerpt from an address given by Professor M. T. Marco, holder of the Copernicus Chair at the University of New San Francisco, shortly before her disappearance (some say, translation), in the year 2489 A. D._

"_All wars are holy wars."_

_ -_Anonymous

Chapter 1: Taken

Starfire was having a hard time remembering her own name.

She lay there in the dark, bound with chains (although, really, she was only peripherally aware of them) and tried to remember what had happened. Something had happened….she had been doing something, then something happened….but what? Who was she? What was she doing here? And perhaps most importantly of all, where was _here?_

On board the bridge of the Gordanian ship, Lord Trogaar surveyed his captive, depicted on the monitors. The Tameranean was, of course, drugged quite thoroughly; he'd learned from the last time she'd been his "guest." An awake and alert Tameranean usually found some way to break out. That wasn't going to happen this time. But now that he finally had her, what was he going to do with her?

He could, of course, always sell her to the Citadel. No matter who was in charge, they were always in the market for more slaves, and Tameraneans were among the strongest, and therefore the most valuable. And, once she was off his hands, how they managed her would be their headache. Who knew? With any luck, she might escape, he'd recapture her again, and sell her _again._ Double the profits.

But for now, she was his prisoner. And the Tameraneans had been a thorn in his side for some time now. He had a perfect opportunity to tweak their noses, so to speak, simply by somehow mistreating their oh-so-precious princess.

But how to do it best? His studies of the culture of the planet she'd been staying on, the one called _Earth_ (what a ridiculous name! Naming an entire world for dirt!) had led him to uncover the strange human custom of _rape_, which, on the surface of it, sounded promising. He could just imagine the howls of anguish that would emanate from the royal court of Tameran should a video get back to them of their princess being violated in that manner.

Except…except he just couldn't see it. It wouldn't do for it to be some lowly soldier doing the deed; no, for maximum impact, he'd have to do it himself. And he just plain couldn't see himself getting _that intimate_ with an ugly, dirty _Tameranean_.

Besides, to Gordanian noses, they stank to the high stars. An acrid, mammalian stench that clung to them even after repeated washings. Starfire's own prison cell had to have its own closed air circulation system so that the smell of her didn't sicken the guards outside.

No, attractive as the notion of raping the Tameranean princess was, he just couldn't see subjecting himself to such an excruciating ordeal even for the sake of revenge. In fact, just the thought of it…..he dialed up an anti-emetic and dry-swallowed it.

Well, there was time. He'd come up with something. Maybe something better.

…

"_How_ long has she been out of communication?" Robin asked, his brow furrowing in worry. The Titans had met back at the Tower after a routine patrol, only to find that Starfire hadn't rejoined them.

"At least an hour and thirty minutes," replied Cyborg. "I didn't think anything of it at first…you know, sometimes Star takes off by herself and doesn't check in for a while…but she usually checks in before now."

"Can you pinpoint her location by her phone?"

"That was the first thing I tried. Her phone's not functioning. Either it's off or…." He didn't finish the statement.

"Hank?"

Hank Jones, aka Haywire, concentrated, putting his fingers to the side of his head. He was a low-level telekinetic, but a relatively high level psi. "Not getting anything, Rob. Either she's not in the vicinity, or…." He didn't finish _that_ statement.

"Raven?"

The sorceress bowed her head slightly, closing her eyes. After a moment, "I can't sense her anywhere in the city. I don't think she's here."

"She wouldn't have left the city, not without telling us. Not voluntarily." A horrible suspicion began to form in Robin's mind. "Raven? Can you check with the Orb? See if she's anywhere around? At all?"

"I will." {{_Orb? Are you there?_}}

{{**I am here, friend.**}}

{{_Can you sense our friend, the one we call Starfire?_}}

{{**Vaguely. There seems to be something clouding her mind. It inhibits my ability to locate her.**}}

{{_Do you know where she is?_}}

{{**Approximately twenty-six of your light-years away from this world, traveling at a high velocity. At least, that is the best I can do, as she herself is not sure where she is.**}}

{{_Can you tell why not?_}}

{{**No. Something is hampering her mind. Her thoughts are fuzzy and disjointed. She does not know exactly where she is, therefore I cannot tell, either. But from what I can determine, I do not believe she is there of her own free will. There is an undercurrent of anxiety to her thoughts.**}}

Raven turned to the others. "The Orb says she's in interplanetary space, about twenty six lightyears away. It thinks she's been kidnapped."

"Very well, then," said Robin mildly. "We'll just have to go _un_kidnap her."

Cyborg got the T-jet ready. Some time before, they'd outfitted it with a version of the warp drive the Gordanians used, scavenged from the wreckage of the ship they'd used to build their tower.

While they readied themselves, Robin found himself having to break bad news to Angelique. "But why can't I go?" she moaned. "Miss Starfire's my friend, too!" Kitten had already stashed her things in the T-ship.

Robin knelt before Angelique. "Look, Angelique. It's not that we don't want you to come. Goodness knows we could use someone with powers like yours. But it's dangerous. I know Slade didn't care, but Slade was a bad guy. As team leader, I just can't ask you to accompany us. If something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. And I'm sure your Father Alpha would be dead set against it. You don't want to make him mad, do you?"

"No…."

"Besides," he went on, "we need somebody here, to look after the city while we're gone. There's no telling how long we'll be gone, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have looking out for things here than you. So, okay?"

Angelique looked down at her feet. "Okay." But she sounded clearly disappointed.

It would be a mistake to say that they "blasted off," the T-ship having been converted recently to a field drive. As it was, the multi-pod ship lifted off, with no sense of acceleration, gaining altitude rapidly. "Raven? Can the Orb give us anything like coordinates?"

Raven reached into her pocket and drew forth….a small Orb. Before leaving, the Orb had detached a very small piece of itself, and nestled into one of the pockets in her cloak. Apparently, a piece was the same as the whole. "Orb? Which way should we go?"

{{**Galactic northeast, longitude 38.5 47' degrees, declination +01.2802 degrees , mark .06. Now mark .07. I will give you updated coordinates accounting for their trajectory and vector.**}}

"Can you sense anything of Starfire's thoughts?"

{{**No. She herself does not know exactly where she is, but she seems to find her surroundings vaguely familiar. Though this familiarity does nothing to ease her anxiety.**}}

"Alright, people," announced Robin. "We don't know who snatched Starfire, and we don't know their strengths, so it's best to assume the worst. On the other hand, they don't know ours. Orb, can you tell if whoever took her has any idea we're after them?"

{{**I cannot really tell, Robin. Their minds are unfamiliar to me. However, I have detected no scanning sensor emanations striking us, and the vessel she is on does not seem to be taking what I suppose you might call evasive maneuvers.**}}

"Good enough. But we have to prepare ourselves before we reach them. Kitten, Cyborg? No active sensors. Let the Orb guide us. Maybe once we have a visual, we'll have some idea who we're dealing with."

"Robin?" Raven's voice came over the intercom. She'd cut in the privacy switch, so none of the others could hear. "We'll find her. We'll bring her back."

"Thanks, Raven." He chewed on a knuckle. _Thanks for trying, anyway._

…

Lord Trogaar was going over some reports, and was actually pleased with what he saw. Profits were up, always a welcome sign, and some of their latest ventures had proven to be more successful than they'd originally anticipated. So he was actually in a pretty good mood. Then he remembered the Tameranean in the holding cell.

Curse the creature, the _troq_, as some called her kind. Lord Trogaar didn't call her that; she wasn't nothing. She was a good deal more trouble than nothing.

How to maximize profits from her sale? He supposed he could put her up for auction on the open market, but in her current drugged state, she wasn't very impressive. And letting her head clear was an invitation to disaster, like last time. So he had to find someone who already knew about her, or at least about Tameraneans in general, someone who was aware of her potential. But who?

He'd already back-burnered his plans to brutalize her in some way. A simple beating, one that left scars (the only kind really worth giving in the first place) might detract from her value. That would never do.

Maybe he could blind her. Tameraneans had that annoying ability to shoot beams from their eyes….if he gouged out her eyes, she'd have a hard time doing that. But once again, that might cut into his profits from this venture, and that was just plain unacceptable. He hadn't gone to all this trouble, returning secretly to that world she'd been living on, stealthily striving to avoid attracting the attention of that _thing_ they'd encountered last time, to waste money. It just wasn't good business.

With a very human-like sigh, he recognized that, value-wise, it would be best for the female to be alive and in good health. She'd bring so much more that way. Maybe he could find some market, some buyer that would find her sexually attractive, though, from his perspective, that seemed unlikely. Finding someone who'd actually desire to mate with an ugly, dirty, _smelly_ Tameranean wouldn't be easy. And, by the time he found such a buyer, she'd probably smell even worse. Idly, he wondered if she'd soiled herself by now. Probably; she certainly hadn't been anywhere near a biowaste receptacle. Or in any shape to use one.

Her secondary value would be as a work slave. Tameraneans were, after all, very strong. With another sigh, he reluctantly decided that was probably the way to go. Get the creature off his hands, and get on with business.

Sometimes, you just have to swallow revenge in the name of the greater good.

….

Starfire's consciousness swam in and out of her head. She couldn't hold a thought for more than a few micro-seconds, and when she could, the drugs in her system, the drugs being administered by a small pump attached to her arm, saw to it that it didn't stay there long. She knew she was in some kind of enclosure, and that she was chained, bound up, unable to move. For a brief moment, she thought she recognized her surroundings…they seemed somehow familiar. But then the pump shot another dose into her circulatory system, and awareness faded.

But not before she got one coherent thought out: _Robin!_

…..

{{**I have just detected Starfire. She is in great mental distress. So far, she is unharmed, but she is calling for Robin,**}} the Orb said to Raven. {{**Do you think we should tell him?**}}

"Did you get anything more specific than that?"

{{**No. I am monitoring her position, however. We are on an intercept course.**}}

Raven bit her lip. "Let's….not tell him just yet. He's…got a lot on his mind, as it is."

{{**Then I trust your wisdom in this matter, my friend.**}}

…..

On board the Gordanian ship, the day crew had just come on. Those crewmembers going off-shift were filling them in on any information not immediately apparent from the screens. "What's this?" asked one of the newcomers, pointing one clawed finger towards a monitor. There was something registering on the extreme far end of the sector. Something big.

"Don't know," said his relief. "It wasn't there a few mintons ago. Here," she reached over and flicked a button, "let's run an active scan and see what it is."

All of a sudden, the great ship shuddered as if it had just run into an asteroid. "What was _that_?" someone asked, alarm in his voice, "are we hit? Did somebody take a shot at us?"

"Relax. That was no hit. Something just blew, that's all."

The female who should've already gone off-shift was running a quick diagnostic. "Hm. Looks like we just blew a sensor, off the port bow. Some sort of feedback. What could do that?" She tried another sensor, focusing it on the damaged area outside the ship.

A monitor, slaved to the sensor, depicted the wreckage of the first sensor, a scar marring the overall clean lines of the Gordanian battle cruiser. It seemed to have blown from within. Idly, it dawned on her that this was, or should be, the same sensor she'd set to scan the anomaly on the far edge of the screen…..

As a test, she aimed another sensor at the object, thing, whatever it was. _Boooom!_ Lights flickered on the bridge.

"There goes another sensor. What's going on here?"

"Don't know. Visual? Put the thing on the main screen. Let's see what it looks like." Obligingly, the on-shift crewmember directed the portside hi-rez viewcameras towards the thing. They all looked up at the screen, eager to see what the strange object was. The image flickered, stabilized….

…

Lord Trogaar had finally chanced upon the perfect revenge against the Tameranean: he'd addict her to some powerful drug. That wouldn't affect her value as either a work slave or concubine, and would have the added bonus of making her life (what was left of it) a living nightmare. Her own kin would probably be ashamed of her because of her "weakness," and, thus further alienated from her friends and family, she'd be more compliant. Who knew? Perhaps she could be chemically programmed to be the perfect, submissive slave, with never a thought in her head save how to please her Master, who, of course, would utterly control the supply of the drug(s) she was hooked on.

Raping her body would subtract from her value, and be unpleasant, besides. But raping her spirit…ah, that was another matter altogether.

He touched the intercom. "Bridge? How long till we make planetfall?" After all, such a procedure as he was contemplating would require a certain amount of time.

No response. "Bridge?" Again, nothing. "Security. What's going on on the bridge? I'm not getting any answer to my calls."

"We will investigate the matter, Lord Trogaar." Trogaar could hear the captain of the guard singling out a security detail. He cut the 'com off, while he did some research on just what drugs Tameraneans were most subject to….

A frantic 'com signal interrupted his study. "Sir! This is Trobor, sir! Sir, it's the bridge crew! They've, they've gone mad! Sir!"

"Calm down, soldier. Let me speak to your captain."

"I can't, sir! He's dead! They killed him! Tore him apart, like, like wild animals or something! There's only three of us left….we've managed to seal off the bridge, but we can hear them pounding on it even now! And, and I think they've got some kind of cutting torch! Sir, _what do we do?_"

"Hang on, soldier, I'm on my way." He dialed up security. "Get everybody up to the bridge. Tell them to armor up and bring weapons. We've a mutiny on our hands."

…

In her holding cell, Starfire could feel—barely, through the chemical haze over her mind—the shuddering of the ship. On some level, she was aware that she was someplace she didn't want to be, someplace it would be unhealthy to remain. But forming a coherent plan was difficult.

With a supreme effort, she focused on her surroundings. There; attached to her arm was an automated hypospray. So that was what was causing her to be so woozy. But what to do about it?

The injection device itself was beyond her reach, bound as she was with heavy-duty chains. But the tubing leading to it…..

Starfire knew, that if she was to be free, she had to act now. Whatever was causing the commotion she was feeling was a good distraction, but she couldn't count on it to last.

She reached around, twisting her body into a painful knot, which had the added benefit of helping to clear her head somewhat, gathered the slender piping in her mouth, and bit down _hard_.

…...

Lord Trogaar surveyed the damaged bridge, not really wanting to believe what he saw. It wasn't that the bridge was unusable or anything; it could be repaired, and there was always the auxiliary bridge from which the ship could be flown. But what had happened here?

Thick, green Gordanian blood was everywhere. The bridge crew had all had to be killed, every single one. They had fought viciously, with a kind of mindless violence and complete disregard for their own well-being (or any wounds they received) that had chilled him right down to the marrow. He'd never seen anything quite like it, with any species. What could have affected the entire bridge crew, all of them, _all at the same time?_

Gordanians, like many other species, had their intoxicating and mind-altering substances, with varying degrees of legality. He could understand one or two of his trusted personnel succumbing to some sort of drug induced craze, but it was simply beyond the bounds of reason to think that the entire bridge crew, including those just then coming on-shift—would, all at once, choose to engage in such activity, and, even more, that such usage would affect them all in the exact same way simultaneously.

The bodies had been taken to the infirmary, with his strict instructions that his medics conduct a thorough autopsy on all that remained of them. In a few cases, that wasn't much. They had fought on, despite not-immediately lethal injuries, all the while completely ignoring any infliction of pain or any orders that they cease and desist, and give an account of themselves.

Trogaar felt his chief of security come up beside him. The sheer violence of what had happened had shaken them both, though neither of them were any strangers to carnage. This, however, went…beyond anything in their experience.

Trogaar turned to him. "You have the recordings from the security cameras?"

"Yes, milord." He proffered an infodisk. "I haven't seen it yet, but it should show us what happened here." His voice was hushed, as if he were in a long- forgotten cathedral. A cathedral of death. "Do you want me to view it first?"

"We'll do it together. How long until repairs are complete?"

The chief shook his scaled head. "They did some significant damage, Lord Trogaar. It will be several _ooons_ before this bridge can be used again. Full repairs will have to wait until we make planetfall."

"Then we'll have to use the auxiliary bridge until then. Tell the repair crew to do what they can. Now. Follow me." And he led his security chief down the corridor into a smaller, more private room. Plugged the infodisk into a reader.

Lord Trogaar and his chief of security watched the view from the overhead camera as the bridge crew went about their normal, shift-changing duties. Saw and heard the normal banter as one shift came on to relieve the first. Saw and heard the inquiry about the mysterious object in the upper quadrant of the monitor. Saw the crew attempt to scan it, with the results of losing two sensors. They saw the officer aim an outside viewcamera at the anomaly…..

And saw every one of the Gordanians on the bridge suddenly reel back as if struck, clutching their eyes, as if trying to shut out the image of what they were seeing. Saw the bridge crew members, both shifts, turn from orderly, self-controlled intelligent beings into screaming, mindless maniacs, with no regard for their own safety.

Almost, thought Trogaar, as though they'd suddenly found death a preferable state of existence.

The chill he felt had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature.

…

{{**Raven?**}} The Orb's mental voice startled her; she'd been dozing. There wasn't much for her to do at the moment, and she'd taken the time to rest before what would surely be a battle.

{{_Yes, Orb?_}}

{{**There is danger.**}}

{{_I take it you mean, something other than what we are anticipating?_}}

{{**Yes, my friend. There is something out there, where we are going. We should not go there.**}}

{{_We have to rescue Starfire, Orb. That is why we are here. What sort of danger are you sensing? I take it you don't mean the ship and whoever has kidnapped our friend?_}}

The Orb was silent for a moment. Then, {{**No. It is not that. As to what it is,** **I…do not know. I am sensing something in the vicinity of the vessel carrying our friend. Something…..**}} Uncharacteristically, the Orb failed to complete its own sentence.

{{_What is wrong? What are you sensing? Can you tell me anything? Anything at all?_}}

Raven felt movement in her pocket, and drew the small piece of the Orb out. The black, not-quite-there spheroid was vibrating. No, it was _trembling._ She'd never seen the Orb act like this before. {{**It is something we do not want to meet. We should go somewhere else. Anywhere else.**}}

{{_Orb, you know we can't do that. We have to rescue our friend. Can't you give me any particulars as to the nature of this danger? Can we avoid it?_}}

{{**I do not know. It may choose not to avoid us.**}}

Raven cut in her comm link. "Robin? The Orb's sensing something in the direction we're going in, something close by the ship we're tracking. Something that scares it."

"_Scares it? What could possibly scare the Orb?"_

"I don't know, and it doesn't seem to know, either. Or else it won't say. I find that disturbing, all by itself."

"_You and me, both. Is the ship we're tracking close by this…thing?"_

"Orb?"

{{**It was. Now it is moving off. The danger is still in the vicinity, however. I will endeavor to give you its coordinates, to the best of my ability, in order that you may avoid it.**}}

"That'll have to do. I'll relay them to Robin…" But privately, she wondered. The Orb had sounded _scared._ What could possibly scare the Orb?

_To be continued…._

_Please read and review!_


	2. Chapter 2: Opposing Forces

Tales of the Teen Titans: Kidnapped, chapter 2: Opposing Forces

"Medical? What have you found out about those crewmembers you autopsied?"

Over the ship's comm screen, the medic officer's face was a study in frustration. _"Not a great deal. We've been concentrating on those bodies that were the most complete. As you know, many weren't."_ That was true. Even though mortally wounded, none of the bridge crew had allowed themselves to be taken alive. Some were in curious _fragments_, but whether from their resisting the ship's security forces or from any activities prior to the arrival of said security forces, it was impossible to say. _"Those we have examined show no signs of any pathology that might account for their behavior. There were no drugs in their systems, no evidence of radiation poisoning, nanobot alteration, or anything else we can detect. Their brains are the same as anyone else's. Except they're dead, of course. But we can find nothing to account for their behavior."_ The medical officer remembered that a couple of the bridge crew members seemed to've actually gouged their own eyes out. Yet, according to the reports, that hadn't hampered their ability to inflict grievous harm to the arriving troops. He wondered how they'd managed that…..mystery on top of mystery.

"Keep looking. There's bound to be something." And he broke the connection. He hesitated a moment, then called the auxiliary bridge. "Captain? We are moving away from our previous coordinates? Good. Any anomalies within detection range?"

"_None, sir. We are, of course, continuing to scan."_

"Good, good. Keep scanning, using passive scans. Alert me immediately if you detect anything out of the ordinary. And, whatever you do, _don't_ try for a visual. Trogaar out." He sat back in his seat and wondered.

What could the bridge crew have seen? For there was little doubt, after reviewing the security footage, that they'd been fine until they tried to get a visual on the anomaly they'd sensed. And apparently, just getting a clear picture of that anomaly had completely broken their minds. He couldn't even imagine what could cause that.

Gordanians had their legends and myths, their bogeymen, of course; any civilization did. But there was really nothing in any mythology, Gordanian or otherwise, that he knew about, that could account for something like this.

He'd given orders to move away from the last known (suspected) coordinates of the anomaly. So far, that seemed to be working out. He hoped it would continue to, even if it meant they'd be a bit longer making planetfall.

But what, in Groo's name, could they have seen?

…..

Down in her holding cell, Starfire had managed to bite completely through the piping that fed the drugs into her system. She could feel her head clearing, but it was an uphill battle. She was careful not to show signs of any activity on her part to what she knew would be security cameras focused on her cell. She now knew where she was: She'd recognize a Gordanian holding cell anywhere. And there was no doubt in her mind as to _which_ Gordanian was behind her kidnapping.

She smiled a smile that had nothing to do with amusement. Perhaps, if she was careful, she'd get the opportunity to…._discuss_ the matter with him.

…

At the Watchtower, Shayera Hol was just coming on shift when the long-range sensors showed the great crystal sphere in orbit around the planet. "J'onn? You might want to have a look at this."

The Martian Manhunter drifted over to her console. "Hm. Interesting. Obviously artificial…or is it? A perfect sphere…..what's its composition?"

She ran a check. "Unknown. Some sort of crystal unlike anything on Earth. Or anywhere else in our files. What do you suppose it could be?"

The Martian was still for a moment, closing his eyes, in order to concentrate on his telepathy. "I'm….not sure. I'm sensing something, a mind of some sort, but nothing like anything I've ever encountered. It-*" All of a sudden, he convulsed, his body shaking uncontrollably, then collapsed onto the deck.

Shayera hit the alarm. "Emergency, emergency! Medic to the control room, stat! Quickly," she turned to Mr. Terrific, just then emerging from the lift, "Who's on? We may need some muscle…."

{{**That won't be necessary, Shayera Hol. Your friend is unharmed.**}} The telepathic voice was detected by them all.

"What did you do to him?"

{{**He sensed a portion of my being. It was too much for him. I withdrew immediately; he should be fine, in a few moments.**}}

"Who _are_ you? _What_ are you?"

{{**A friend. I come seeking one who would menace you and your world.**}}

"Who—and what—is it? And where?"

{{**There are no words in any language you are familiar with to describe it. I have detected evidence of its stirrings, here, upon this world. I am here to prevent its evil from bringing harm to you, if I can.**}}

Batman came upon the bridge. "You'll forgive us if we aren't very trusting of you, in light of what happened to one of our own, just now." J'onn J'onnz was just then regaining his feet, rubbing his head, an expression of pain on his green face. Batman had never seen the Martian look like that before.

{{**I understand your suspicion. Rest assured that I am not here to harm anyone.**}}

Batman turned to Hal Jordan, who had also just come to the bridge. "Can your ring sense anything of this…whatever it is?"

"Let me see." Green Lantern concentrated, sending his willpower into the ring on his finger. After a long moment…."Can't really make much out of it. It's crystal of some sort, with some sort of energy field associated with it. But it's either blocking me, or…..it's something the ring can't sense. Something outside its experience, its database."

Batman addressed thin air. "Who are you?"

{{**My true designation in not one you would understand. But in times past, others like you have called me Typhon.**}}

"Very well….Typhon. What is your purpose here?" Batman cast a concerned eye at J'onn, who was still recovering.

{{**A great evil is preparing to manifest itself upon your world. I am here to prevent it.**}}

"What is the nature of this evil? Is it a living being, or a condition?"

**{{It is both, and neither**.**}}**

"Vague, yet unhelpful," muttered the Dark Knight. "You understand when I say we need more information than that before we can permit you to-*"

{{**Excuse me,**}} the telepathic voice broke in, somewhat diffidently, thought Shayera, {{**Please understand that I mean no offense by this, but your permission is neither required nor necessary. I will do what needs to be done.**}} And with that, the crystal sphere ceased communication.

Batman sighed. "So much for the easy approach."

…

"I need more information than that," Lord Trogaar was saying, to his chief engineer. "You say the engines are malfunctioning? How?"

"_That's just it, sir. We don't __know__ how. Everything's working the way it's supposed to, but the engines don't seem to be producing the needed effect. We're out of warp, at sublight, and we can't seem to re-engage the warp drive."_

"Some sort of short in the system."

"_First thing we checked for. They're working fine, producing all the power we need. It's just not having the right effect."_

"Why is that?"

"_We don't know, sir. You know the warp coils are in a delicate state of balance. If they're out of balance…."_ The engineer looked off, as though something had occurred to him. _"I'll check into that, but I've no idea what could've caused __that.__ Those things are better shielded than the battle cruiser itself. They have to be; otherwise, they'd fling us to the far side of creation. And twist us into knots, too."_

"Well, do that, then. And keep us moving, I don't care how." And he cut communication, and went back to his studies on Tameranean physiology.

Except his terminal wouldn't work, for some reason.

….

Had any guard been present outside Starfire's holding cell, they might have heard a very faint scratching sound. Had the security cameras been functional—they, too, were offline—they would've spotted the occupant of the cell kneeling before the locked door, the lockpick that had been in her boot in her hand.

Of course, it was completely unreasonable, to a Gordanian mind, that a stupid _Tameranean_ would've actually _learned_ something from several years of, _ahem, _extremely close association with one of the best escape artists on Earth…..

…..

Lord Trogaar's terminal still wasn't working, but he'd remembered something from years ago, from some lucrative smuggling operation: it seems Tameraneans and Gordanians alike were extremely vulnerable to the drug triacitin, a powerful neuro-narcotic. Usually, one dose was all it took to induce immediate addiction in either kind, one of the very few points of commonality between the two species they possessed. With this in mind, he strolled down to the medic bay to see if they happened to have any on hand.

…

Earth: Nearly a thousand miles below the unsuspecting surface of the planet, in the green crystal city of the subterranean continent, the Fallen One paused in his studies, looking up with a sight that was more than sight. So. It was happening again.

The Fallen One felt a touch of apprehension. _He_ was coming. The last time _he_ had come here, it had meant the extinction of all life on the globe. And, moreover, the one called _Typhon_ was also here.

The Fallen One knew that, strictly speaking, this was not his battle. By rights, he should simply take what was his and leave for safer environs. Still, he wondered if he should take any kind of action on behalf of the _humans_ on the surface. If he did not, the two contending forces would no doubt have the same catastrophic effect on the planet they had before.

There were a few humans—a very few—for whom he felt a certain fondness, or an emotion bordering on that. But he knew he, himself, didn't have anything like the power it would take to actually stand in between these two. He'd be as an ant before a steamroller.

Perhaps….perhaps he could simply warn someone. Humans were remarkably adept at surviving even the most cataclysmic events. Maybe with a little warning, maybe, just maybe, a few would survive.

Maybe. A few.

_To be continued…._


	3. Chapter 3: Contact

Tales of the Teen Titans: Kidnapped, chapter 3: Contact

The Titans' T-ship hove to within visual range of the Gordanian battle cruiser. "Stealth mode..engaged," confirmed Robin. It had already been engaged some time before, and they were relying on the Orb for directions.

While the T-ship might not have state-of-the-art weaponry, at least where the Gordanians were concerned, they did have some advantages. One was Hank's ability to scramble electronic systems. Another was Terra.

"Terra? You're on. Give 'em hell." And the blond girl concentrated…

The space around the Gordanian cruiser was not empty. It just so happened that there were a number of asteroids about, not to mention a goodly amount of space dust. It was on this she concentrated, thickening it around the cruiser, clogging up sensors, and working its way into the guts of the ship itself.

"Hank?" Haywire concentrated, causing the sensitive electronics to malfunction further, rendering the craft blind, and, not incidentally, causing external docking bays to open—without alerting anyone. Carefully, the T-ship docked at one of the open bays…..

"Orb? Do your thing." And the piece of the Orb in Raven's pocket unfolded, streaming out through the solid matter of the T-ship, and wrapping itself around the very core of the battle cruiser's power reactor…..

…..and snuffing it out like a candleflame.

On board the cruiser, the lights flickered, and went out. "_Now_ what?" muttered Trogaar. He was on his way back from the medical area with the triacitin, ready to administer it to his "guest," when the sudden power failure left him, literally, in the dark. Then the emergency lights came on, ghostly beacons along the hallway that he could at least see by. He touched him communicator. "Engineering. What's going on _now?_" This was becoming annoying.

No response. Just static over his communicator.

He grabbed a passing crewmember. "You. Go down to engineering and see what's happening. Come back and report to me."

"Yes, sir!" And off he went.

Trogaar turned and went back to his office. The addicting of the Tameranean would have to wait until things were a bit more stable; right now, the ship was of greater importance. And the ship seemed to be falling apart around him.

…..

The Tower of Fate, Earth: Earth's magical protector, Kent Nelson, aka the Lord of Order known as Dr. Fate, was meditating in his study when Inza interrupted him, something she never did. "Beloved? I think you need to see this." And she led him into the room containing the Eternal Flame.

Because the Flame was flickering, dying down, then flaring back up again. "It just started this, only a few moments ago. What can it mean?"

"That someone is trying to contact us. But that someone does not mean us any harm; this is a way of politely asking for recognition. Like knocking at a door." To the Flame: "We are here. Speak."

A face appeared in the Flame, one Dr. Fate recognized. It was the face of the Fallen One who dwelt in the subterranean city. "I bring dire warning. _He_ is coming. You should take heed."

Fate was puzzled. "He? Who is _he_?"

"He has no name. He is from….beyond." The face in the Flame paused, and Dr. Fate could almost see an expression of fear come over the normally stolid, sober features. "He is the Taker and the Giver, the Liberator and the Enslaver. You must take warning. Already, his Adversary orbits this world. The twain shall meet. Much devastation will result. Much."

"When will _he_ arrive?" Nelson knew better than to ask more particulars as to the nature of the beings involved. He'd dealt with this particular being before, and, while not friends, they were not enemies, either. Their spheres of activity seldom coincided.

"Unknown. Soon. _His_ Opponent is already here. Take heed, Kent Nelson. Warn all whom you care about." And with that, the image in the Flame faded.

"Beloved? Who was that? And of what did he speak?"

Dr. Fate closed his eyes, searching with senses scientists didn't even have names for. "That was….an old…acquaintance. As to whom and what he spoke of, I….am afraid I know. Or I suspect. I must go." And Dr. Fate rose and disappeared into an _ankh_-shaped glow of light.

…

The Watchtower: in the space station's infirmary, J'onn J'onnz was protesting his good health for what seemed to him the hundredth time. "I am fine, Batman. There is nothing wrong with me."

"It never hurts to be cautious. Do you know anything about that crystal sphere? Or it's, it's occupant?"

The Martian thought. "Only that he intends us no harm. That, however, is of limited value." Batman raised an eyebrow. _Oh?_ "One does not have to mean harm to do harm. Your Earthly construction companies probably mean no harm to the mice and voles they displace. Yet, from their perspective, harm ensues."

"It's _that_ far beyond us?"

"I was not able to sense much, but I received the distinct impression that it—he—is a great deal farther beyond us than that. And his resolve is great. Great power and great resolve….sometimes prove devastating for those in the way."

"Indeed," said a voice behind Batman. The Dark Knight didn't even flinch; he was used to Dr. Fate's sudden appearances, and recognized the voice of his colleague. "I have just received word that an impending confrontation may be in the near future."

"So who _are_ these beings?"

"I can tell you who they are not. They are not Lords of Chaos, nor of Order. They are something other, and perhaps more, or less. I have checked the Akashic records. They do not appear in them, save peripherally. They are not part of our reality, either mundane or magickal."

"What _can_ you tell us about them?"

"Their appearance often coincides with a catastrophic disappearance of all life, throughout the stars."

_Why did I know you'd say something like that,_ thought Batman.

…..

Missy didn't know her last name. It had been too long since anyone called her by it.

For that matter, she wasn't sure her first name was "Missy." That was just what everybody called her.

She'd been living on the streets now for almost four of her earthly nine years. She barely remembered her home, with her mother. She wasn't sure what had happened, but she seemed to remember something about her home, she'd lost it, or somebody had done something bad, or something. But, quite by accident (though of course she didn't know that), she'd found some nice people here, in the alleyways, who looked after her, told her where to get food and water.

But they'd cautioned her that not all the people in the alleys were nice, especially to a little girl, and if she didn't know someone, it was best to keep away. And then there were the others, the ones who said they meant well, who called themselves _truant officers,_ but wanted to take her someplace. She'd had enough experience with going places she didn't want to go, to feel that was a bad idea. So she'd learned that if she simply kept away from people, she'd usually have fewer problems. But it was a lonely, fearful life. And often a hungry one.

Here was one alley she'd found that she'd come to think of as a kind of home: it was usually warmer than some, and twisted in such a way that the wind didn't blow down it quite so bad. And, for some reason, it was usually deserted; she'd developed an almost sixth sense for when there were people around.

Now….now that sense was telling her that there was someone here…..and yet, it wasn't like it was a person, like she was normally used to seeing. There was someone…or something…here…or someone or something coming here…..

A blue flash of light startled her. When her eyes adjusted, she saw a tall, dark haired man standing in the alleyway, wearing dark trousers, and what looked like a brown leather or suede jacket. His face was solemn, and he had the look of one in authority. As another friend of hers, a grownup the others called Fast Eddie, would say, "he had 'cop' written all over him."

Unerringly, his dark eyes turned and zeroed in on her. She blanched; already, it was too late to hide, in case he was one of the not-nice men. But he saw her, came over and knelt on one knee in front of her. For some reason, she wasn't afraid. His eyes were….odd looking. Normal enough looking eyes, just incredibly _deep_, somehow. She couldn't see any _back_ to them. She imagined falling into them, like falling off a really tall building, falling, falling, and still having a long, long ways to go. He didn't smile, but he didn't look unfriendly, either. He looked at her as if she were another person, not just a little kid. "Who are you?" he asked. His voice was soft, his demeanor kind.

"I'm Missy. That's what everybody calls me. Who-who're you?"

"I am called Typhon. What is happening here, Missy? Is there trouble on this world?"

"I-I don't know. I don't know what you mean."

He studied her. Then, "You are..hungry. Would you like something to eat?"

The fears the others had instilled in her woke up. This stranger was offering her something she wanted….what would the cost be? She hesitated….

He straightened up. "Fear lies heavily upon your heart. But you need not fear me. I am here to help. Now, come. We will talk."

She took his offered hand, and it was warm, a strangely comforting sensation to her. It had been so long since she'd actually dared get close enough to another person to touch them….but she sensed, somehow, that the being—she did not think he was a man, not like other men, at least-who called himself Typhon would not hurt her. She'd found a friend and protector.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4: All's Well

Tales of the Teen Titans: Kidnapped, chapter 4: All's Well….

On board the crippled Gordanian battle cruiser, the Titans carefully made their way from the docking bay. They'd left Hank and Terra behind, to keep the T-ship secure. Terra couldn't use her powers effectively inside the ship itself, anyway.

Kitten had her pocket computer, with which she'd hacked into the Gordanians' ship-wide LAN. Although Haywire's interference had knocked out most of the ship's sensors and net, she was still able to get a general schematic. "Holding cells are down this way," she said, indicating a passage to the right.

"Okay, people," Robin spoke up, "We haven't seen anyone yet, but we will. Cyborg? Keep scanning for lifeforms. Maybe we can get to the cells and free Starfire before we're noticed, but that's not the way to bet. Everybody be ready to fight at a moment's notice." He readied his _bo_ staff.

"_I'm_ sure ready," muttered Kitten, hoisting her freeze ray. "I'll turn 'em into popsicles. Really ugly popsicles." Robin shook his head at that, smiling. Not too long ago, Starfire and Kitten had been the deadliest of enemies. Now Kitten was preparing to charge into battle to save her one-time nemesis. Life sure threw you some curve balls, sometimes.

Meanwhile, Lord Trogaar had returned to his office. The lights were out, except for the emergency illumination, his terminal didn't work, and he couldn't contact anybody via communicator. And the ship was evidently crippled, unable to achieve warp drive. That needed to be fixed, and soon. Otherwise, they'd grow old and die, here in interstellar space, long before the sublight engines could get them anywhere near civilization. What _more_ could go wrong?

Gradually, it came to his senses that there were sounds coming from his bathroom. Sounds of running water…..

If some of the crew members thought to take advantage of the current crisis to indulge themselves in _his_ facilities, he see to it they were flayed alive. Right now, he didn't have any patience with any foolishness.

He stormed into his spacious bathroom. There, in the shower stall….the water was running. Who could it be?

He tore back the curtains…..and got a faceful of starbolts from the Tameranean princess who'd been washing off in there.

Lord Trogaar reeled back, the concussive effect knocking him back into his office. He was dimly aware of the Tameranean, the one called _Starfire,_ emerging from his bathroom, completely naked. "One trusts," she began, in a peculiarly_ unnerving_ way, "that one does not mind one's guest making use of one's facilities to do the freshening of up." There was an odd sheen to her eyes that even Trogaar noted.

Trogaar struggled to regain control. He was a good deal bigger than the Tameranean, but those starbolts straight to the face had rung his bells pretty good.

Starfire very casually walked into his main office. She spied the dropped hypospray. "For me? Oh, you should not have. The customs of my people dictate that, if you give me a gift, I must give you one in return. But I have nothing to give. So I must most regrettably return yours." And with a smile that was pure malice, she shoved the hypospray against his leg…..

…

The Titans had finally encountered the resistance they'd prepared for. The Gordanians fought, and fought well. But between Cyborg's sonic cannon, Raven's magic, and Kitten's freeze ray, they fell back, ever back.

A green African Cape buffalo knocked a Gordanian into and through the far wall, then looked around for more. One thing about Cape buffaloes, when they get really mad, they become nearly a ton of unstoppable muscle. And Beast Boy was _angry. _"We have to make it to the holding cells, everyone. Down this way." And Robin led the way towards the lower level. A Gordanian leveled his trident-shaped weapon, only to turn into a sold block of ice before he could depress the firing stud. Even as she froze the first one, Kitten kicked another trooper, who'd gotten closer than he should have, right in the gut, then hammered him into the floor as he bent double. Robin was impressed. "I didn't know you had the moves, Kitten."

"Moves, shmoves. These guys obviously never had reform school gym class." She focused her freeze ray on the air just in front of her, the moisture in the air freezing into a solid ball of ice. She hefted it, and drew her arm back. "Dodgebaaaaaall!" The thrown ice ball bowled over two Gordanians like ten-pins. Meanwhile, Cyborg set his sonic cannon on wide-angle, and took out three more.

"This way!" Robin led them past the oddly feeble resistance towards the holding cells. However, there, in the dim emergency light, he saw a figure standing in the way. A humanoid figure….one he recognized. "Uh, Starfire?"

"Oh, yes! Robin, you came!" And she rushed up to him, catching him in a bone-bending hug. "I am so glad to see you!"

"Starfire…_gak._..what happened to your clothes?" She was completely naked.

She looked at him lasciviously. "Does it matter?" And again squeezed him tight. "We are together. We must go. Now. Immediately. I wish to go to your room. With you."

{{**Friend Raven?**}} The Orb sounded pensive.

{{_Yes_?}}

{{**An interesting fact about Tameraneans that maybe you should be aware of. It seems that certain tranquilizers have an odd side effect on the females of the species, once they wear off.**}}

Raven smirked. {{_I believe I can guess what that effect is, Orb._}}

{{**Indeed.}}**

Raven grinned wider. Starfire hadn't let go of Robin; she was covering him with kiss after kiss. She had a hunch Robin wasn't going to get away. Not for a while yet. _Well, the hero definitely gets the girl. Or maybe, this time, it's the other way around. _"Uhm, okay, uhm, er, people," Robin began, prying his face away from Starfire's, for the briefest of moments, "back to the ship. We've got what we came for. Raven? Mind if we borrow your cloak?"

"I do not need it, beloved mine." The males in the group were doing their best to look anywhere else. And trying not to snicker.

"What about the creep that did this?" Beast Boy wondered. He'd changed back to human, but he was still outraged that some interplanetary thug would kidnap _his_ Starfire . "It's that Trogaar fellow again, isn't it? We need to find him and shellac his ass once and for all."

"I do not think he would feel it right now, friend Beast Boy." Starfire's dreamy smile was tinged with a certain amount of wholly untamed satisfaction. "But he will. Given time."

….

Lord Trogaar was in heaven. Everything was wonderful; it didn't matter that he was on board a crippled starship. It didn't matter that his captive had broken free. It didn't matter that his ship was being invaded by what was apparently a horde of super-powered humans. None of that was important. Right now, he couldn't help but concentrate on the bliss he was feeling.

But a part of him, in the back of his brain, knew it wouldn't last. And knew what was coming. He'd seen beings come down from just this sort of high before. He'd seen beings screaming in agonized withdrawal, desperate for another fix.

In fact, he'd been responsible for it, more than once.

The Tameranean had turned the tables on him. She had gifted him with this joy, the joy he'd intended for her. But, better than most, he knew what the aftereffects would be.

He opened the desk drawer and pulled out the pulse pistol he always kept there. Why not leave on a high note? Get out while the getting was good.

And things were very good right now.

He put the pulse pistol to his head, an expression of utter bliss on his face….

…

The trip back was uneventful, except for Starfire's insistence on riding in Robin's pod. It made for a tight squeeze, but somehow, Raven got the impression that was the whole idea. She'd cut the sound and video pickup from that pod, not just for her pod, but for everyone else's. Nobody complained. Give 'em some privacy, seemed to be the general consensus. Besides. Whatever was going on in that pod was bound to be…..distracting.

Back on Earth: the T-ship landed smoothly, and a still-naked and completely unembarrased Starfire immediately dragged a blushing and now-partially unclothed Robin downstairs, to his room. _Hope he's got the stamina for this,_ thought Raven. _I wonder how hard it would be for him to get a prescription for Viagra?_ But, somehow, she doubted he'd really need it.

They met a puzzled Angelique in the hallway. "Miss Raven? Why was Miss Starfire not wearing any clothes? And why was she dragging Mr. Robin around like that?"

"Ah, it's a long story, Angelique. I'll tell you all about it later." _Like in ten years or so. Maybe._

The red telephone was chiming, the "missed call" button flashing on and off. Raven picked it up, dialing the appropriate codes in order to read the messages. _"Robin, this is Hawkgirl. We may have a situation. Call me for details. And Batman wants to talk to you. Watchtower out."_

The End

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